Strikers (30 page)

“That’s it?” asks the voice.

“Oh, no. Sorry. But if he’s been released and he’s coming this way, won’t your loudspeaker simply advertise where we are?” asks Jovan.

There’s no response aside from a faint rhythmic pattern of clinging metal somewhere behind the wall I take for footsteps on metal stairs. I look around but see no door or opening in the wall. I’d be surprised to find such, considering this is a wall meant to keep people out and a door would just be an invitation.

There’s the sound of sliding metal and an ear-piercing squeal, then a small square opens up in the wall above us, maybe twenty feet from the ground. The metal of the square is ridiculously thick and there must be something mechanical taking the weight of it. No person, no matter how strong, could possibly dislodge it.

Once it swings away, a bearded man pokes his head out of the opening and smiles at us, looking from one to the next. He puts a radio to his mouth and says something I can’t hear but the searchlight goes out above us. I hadn’t realized how much strain it was to look up with that light shining down, but with it gone it suddenly seems dark again. The dawn is well underway and there’s plenty of light; it merely seems dark in comparison.

“Hey,” the man says. “I’m Rev. To answer your question, my partner just called in to the Logan’s Crossing gate again, and they say he appears to have walked out of town the way he came. Doesn’t mean he won’t come back. We’ll know in a few hours.”

Jovan looks each way, sighting along the wall now that the light is improving, then frowns. “Where’s the closest gate?”

We all look up hopefully at that. I want him to say it’s close by and not the one we just passed, the one in the direction of Creedy.

Rev grimaces a little, so I know the answer before he speaks. “You passed it about five miles back; Logan’s Crossing. The next one is about fifteen miles south, at the next major crossing. I don’t suppose you want to go back to Logan’s, do you?”

Maddix laughs bitterly and says, “That would be a big no.”

Rev nods toward the trees and the river beyond and asks, “I don’t suppose that boat was bought, either.”

Maddix looks down and away like he’s embarrassed. But he answers honestly. “No. We didn’t have a lot of choices.”

“Can you give us a second?” I ask, breaking in.

Rev waves an invitation, a knowing grin on his face at our discomfort.

“I know we can get to the next gate much more quickly in the boat. I know that also decreases the chances of Creedy catching up with us. I get that,” I say, prepared to need to do some convincing.

“But if we have a stolen boat, probably one someone relies on for their living or getting food, then what does that say about us,” Jovan finishes for me.

“Exactly,” I confirm.

We’re all silent a moment, either thinking it over or waiting for the others to think it over. I’m not sure which. I know what my vote will be. I don’t want to take any chances they won’t let us in. I have a half-brother to meet and a life to begin.

“I say we don’t take the boat,” Cassi declares.

“We’ve already stolen it. I say we keep it until the gate. Then we can turn it over,” Maddix says. This surprises me because he was the one urging caution before. Has he decided that getting into the gate with Connor—now that he’s confirmed with this sentry that he’s still a citizen—is more important than ruining the chances of those who don’t have such a confirmation?

Connor seems torn, chewing his lip. He probably doesn’t want to disagree with the brother he just got back but I know him. He’s genuinely honest and probably felt bad about stealing the boat in the first place. He meets my eyes for a moment and I do my best to convey that he should vote no.

Jovan doesn’t wait for his answer and says, “I vote we figure out a way to return it.” At the understandably alarmed looks he gets from all of us, he holds up his hands and says, “If we can figure out how to do it, that is.”

That settles everyone down. Maddix nudges Connor and he gives his answer, carefully avoiding any eye contact with me or Cassi, when he says, “I say we keep it. We have the right to go through already. We need to get through before anything else can happen.”

To say I’m disappointed would be an understatement. Jovan and Cassi have no guarantees. And this leaves us in the precarious position of needing to distance ourselves from Maddix and Connor if they won’t accept the way the majority vote goes. Especially since I’m the final vote and they must know what I’ll choose.

“I vote we don’t keep it. In fact, I think we can earn some points here. Maddix, you still have the silver that Jovan gave you, right?”

He nods, but looks like he’d rather I not remember that.

“Well, I think we should bring the boat up more safely on the bank and give some silver to this guy to be passed to whoever comes to get it and ask if they’ll contact Logan’s Crossing so the owner can come and get it. It doesn’t erase the theft, but it does ameliorate it some.”

I know I’m trying to sell this idea a little too hard, but I really don’t want to have to separate from Connor. Or Maddix for that matter.

When we were little, he teased us for being pests and generally behaved as any other annoying older brother of a friend, but he was also kind. And he came back for Connor. Even knowing what might happen, he came back and he brought my father with him. I owe him for that.

After a long, tense moment during which I half expect Maddix to take off for the woods and the boat beyond, he lets out a sigh and says, “Fine. I still say it’s a risk but if that’s what we’re doing, let’s do it and get moving.” He digs in his pocket a moment and holds out a handful of coins toward Jovan.

Rev has been watching us from above, that same smirk on his face the whole time. I can only guess that he knows exactly what we’re doing and why. His eyes shift at the clinking of the silver and the smirk turns into a smile. It’s a genuine one so I know we made the right decision.

“We did take the boat and we didn’t pay for it,” Jovan says.

His cheeks are a little flushed and I could swear I see shame there, even though he had nothing to do with the theft. That he’s using the inclusive “we” as he speaks gives me a warm feeling. Before I even have a chance to think about it, I reach out the few inches between us and give his hand a squeeze, then let it go just as quickly.

He clears his throat and gives me a sidelong glance before continuing. “We felt we were in a bad position and that seemed like the only option at the time, but it was still wrong and we’d like to return it.”

I hear Maddix whisper something about laying it on thick but ignore him.

Rev scrubs a hand across his beard and says, “But you figure it probably isn’t safe to go bring it back if it isn’t safe enough to go to the gate back there. Am I close?”

Looking up at him, I wonder exactly how many times Rev has had conversations like this. Perhaps not exactly, but at least in general. How many Strikers made it this far? How many people from the Riverlands or wild lands have come here, wanting a better life beyond the wall?

“Sir…Rev, we have silver and would like to ask if you’d let the gate, and the town, know that the boat is here and perhaps pass the silver to them for us?” Jovan asks, holding out the silver in his palm.

Perhaps Jovan is laying it on just a little thick, but I can’t think of a better way to ask the favor, and he sounds sincere. He is sincere. I’m not sure Rev believes him, though, because his smile has taken on a decidedly skeptical look and his eyebrows have crept up.

“We’re serious. Jovan is just
really
polite,” I call out.

That makes him laugh and he says, “Well, then, I suggest someone else do the talking until that wears off of him a little. Too much politeness just makes folks suspicious.” His hand goes across his beard again, considering us, then he holds up a finger for us to wait and disappears.

He’s only gone for a few seconds and when he comes back, he lowers a basket. Inside is a little cloth bag that Jovan takes out without hesitation, slipping his little pile of coins inside. It seems too much. It’s Jovan’s, but realistically, it’s all we have. What if there are bribes later on at the next gate or worse, suppose Rev doesn’t pass it anywhere except into his own pocket.

I hold my hand over Jovan’s to stop him and ask Rev, “How much is the right amount?”

He grins that knowing grin again. This guy reads me too well. “Getting a ride across costs a tenth. You took it a whole lot farther, and without permission. There’s a lost catch to consider as well. All told, you could get away with a quarter but if you want a whole lot fewer hard feelings, I’d leave a half ounce. It seems you have more than enough for that,” he says, nodding at the shiny pile.

We do have that and more. Actually, Jovan has as much as I’ve seen in my entire life just hanging around in his pockets. Still, it’s such a precious amount that it hurts. A quick look at the others tells me I’m not alone. Except Jovan, who is still standing there, ready to keep pouring.

Once the basket is back up and we’re a whole lot poorer, Rev says, “The owner will get it along with their boat.”

He directs his words to me and gives me a solemn nod, sensing, I suppose, my inherent skepticism. But I believe him and I’m glad the boat will be returned.

“You best get going if you’re going to make it today. I’ll pass word that you’ll be coming and that you’re walking on this side, near the wall. Typically, we discourage that but you look harmless enough.”

The crossbow I can clearly see now that the light is good, plus the rifle in the hands of the man still peering at us from the top of the wall, give me a clue as to how they discourage people. I’m glad we won’t get that kind of discouragement.

There’s not much more to say but it feels awkward to just turn and leave. Rev makes it easy by saying, “If we hear anything about that fellow following you, I’ll pass it along the sentries along the wall. You just keep moving.”

Then Rev and the little opening are gone, the thick metal slamming home with a loud bang you could probably hear for a mile. That sets us in motion quick enough. I’ve got no pack and there are just the few bags from the boat to carry, so I’m left without a burden. I wish I had something to carry to keep my hands busy. Before, I could hook my hands into the straps of my backpack and feel occupied, but now they hang free and I’m keenly aware that Jovan’s hands are swinging right next to mine.

It would be a simple matter to occupy at least one of my hands by holding one of his while we walked. That would be good. But I can’t seem to bring myself to test and see what he would do if I did just grab his hand. In front of the others, I feel exposed for just thinking it.

Instead, I speed up and tap Cassi’s shoulder so she’ll walk with me. As we chat and walk, talking about what it might be like on the other side and whether or not they’ll really let me sponsor her, I’m constantly aware that Jovan is right behind me. For most of the time, I’m convinced he’s looking at me, his eyes burning along my back.

Eventually, I feel a tug on my hair and turn to glare at him. He just smiles and holds up a little twig. It must have been in there since the river and that was what was drawing his attention. I’m a little disappointed but I turn around and keep walking.

Cassi digs into her pocket and hands me a wide-toothed comb, the only kind she can use on her curly hair. With my hands free for the first time in ages, I feel a strong desire to keep them busy. I find some relief over the next hour by patiently combing out the tangles while we walk.

But I can’t just comb my hair forever while I’m trying to escape with my life. Eventually, it’s once again a smooth curtain down my back and I can’t find a single knot to mess with. And as a bonus, it’s no longer quite so greasy after my long swim in the river.

After I hand Cassi back her comb, she reaches out and runs some of my hair through her fingers. She sighs and says, “I always wanted long hair like yours. Straight.”

I laugh because it’s such a ridiculous thing to say. Cassi is as close to perfect as a human can be. But we always want something different than we’re born with, even if what we’re born with is perfect the way it is.

Whether it’s because we’re on the final leg of our journey and safety is mere miles ahead of us or because the weather is fine, I feel hopeful. That free feeling from before is creeping up on me again and I wonder what it’s like on the other side of this giant wall we walk along. The sentries above seem to be spaced fairly widely, because it’s late morning before we see the next ones popping their heads over the top and whistling to get our attention.

“Any news?” Jovan calls up. There’s hope in his voice, too.

“Nothing good. We just got a call about an hour ago that the man you described came back out of the woods and into town. They wouldn’t rent him a boat or take him as passenger so he’s walking south, downstream.”

“Did he have a horse?” I ask.

The man shakes his head and says, “No. One of the ferry guys came over to give us the news and he said someone took off with his horses.”

“Well, it isn’t all bad news, then,” Cassi calls up, a brilliant smile on her face.

The man was already looking her way with interest. Now he looks like someone whacked him on the head hard enough that he lost some of his sense. It’s almost comical, but I’ve seen it enough in the past. She doesn’t seem to notice it at all and just keeps smiling, not understanding that some smiles aren’t just smiles.

“Anything else?” Jovan asks, his expression just a little less open and a little harder. He feels protective of Cassi and this is putting up his hackles. I give his arm a little squeeze and he pulls in a tight breath, pushing it out like I do when I want to get rid of stress or irritation.

His words seem to shake the sentry out of whatever Cassi-induced fog he was in and he gives us a rueful smile, perhaps aware how we might take his stares. He says, “He’s walking and you’ve got hours on him, but he is walking. You’re still about nine miles and change from the gate so I’d get a move on.”

With one last wave, he backs out of sight and we move on. It’s not a leisurely stroll and hasn’t been, but we haven’t been pushing it like we should have. That changes and I hear Maddix give a little groan as the strain of the uneven ground takes its toll on his still damaged thigh muscle. He’s a fighter though and he gets through it, using the balls of his thumbs to dig in and loosen the muscles.